filthy stinking rich

"I've found meanings around the circumstance, but the actual event itself still doesn't... I can't find a meaning for it. I can find meanings in things and people and relationships that have sprung up, and friendships that have strengthened. I can find a lot of meaning in that, but not in why. I know I got kind of obsessed with that for awhile, the before and after. A lot of things died... There's a line from a book that gave me so much comfort and it said, 'When you've truly lost everything, then at least you can become rich in loss.'"

Nightline Interview December 2010

"Moments that were strung like beads on a thread...and they were very far apart from each other. I mean, it sounds so silly, but a just-right cup of tea. I spent a lot of time taking baths. A lot of tea and baths—double warm."

"This is something that had to be gotten through on its own terms. On its own terms."

Rebecca Solnit's A Field Guide to Getting Lost. Williams once quoted a line on Nightline that helped her: " 'When you have truly lost everything then at least you can become rich in loss.' " The strange thing is that Williams misquoted, and for this purpose improved, Solnit's actual words: "And when everything else is gone, you can be rich in loss."

"I didn't know I had done that," she says, and explains why the thought was so useful to her. "The 'rich in loss' made me laugh. I would just think, 'Filthy stinking rich! Filthy stinking rich!' in a perverse-gallows-humor kind of way. It made me laugh, it made me feel drunk, it made me feel high with loss, in that tightrope kind of way of sadness and hysteria. And when you don't have ideas like that, it feels too messy to bear. It gave me great comfort. It was something I would repeat to myself, like a mantra. Because for some time it felt like we had lost everything. And those words, that idea, calmed me down."

GQ February 2012

There’s this idea that a person’s life is like a staircase...

“The air conditioning is broken, and this playwright has never done a play and he’s swearing and jonesing for a cigarette, and the director is pouring with sweat and we’re reading this thing. Sometimes I get in these cynical places—‘Does any of it even matter?’—but here’s this writer who fucking cares and this director who cares. He’s built this underground theater company for 15 years so that we can do this. And these actors are coming in and they’re not simply memorizing their lines, they’re giving us these personalities. And they’re dripping with sweat, too. I get confused sometimes, but every now and then I stumble on something I feel certain about, and that feels very good.”

Ethan Hawke

Corduroy Magazine Issue 8

PAMELA

studied art at los angeles city college, designed clothes for jim and friends, ran a boutique, went by "pamela roselily"... i wish there was more known about her. 

click  to read a cool article about themis

you imitate what you see

I'd like to write and direct my own film. 

It's all in my head.

You can't predict what's going to happen.

You just have to go with it.

We're trying to project our music, us, our ideas. Our ideas are in the songs, in the music.

We can't verbalize them. If we could we'd be doing that instead.

We played outdoors at Santa Clara. 

We've never done too well in those outdoor daytime concerts. 

I think that we need the night and sort of theatre-type atmosphere and mood in which to work.

There's something about the daylight and the open spaces that just sort of dissipates the whole magic.

Some people surrender their freedom willingly--but others are are forced to surrender it.

Imprisonment begins with birth.

Society, parents; they refuse to allow you to keep the freedom you are born with.

There are subtle ways to punish a person for daring to feel. You see that everyone around you has destroyed his true feeling nature. 

You imitate what you see.

I mean, each time that somebody gets up on stage, it's theatre. We might do an actual play, one with a plot or story, and it wouldn't be just a lot of songs, you know. I think that we'll do that. That's definitely where it's going. I think that what's going to happen now will be a crisis of music.

It's no longer primitive rock music, as it was. There's been a split.

A lot of people will go into theatre and musicals and opera and that kind of thing, and get further away from pure music, but rock, the primitive rock music, will reassert itself eventually.

Eventually, there'll come a need for that basic blues beat again.

Our culture mocks "primitive cultures" and prides itself on supression of natural instincts and impulses.

I offer images -- I conjure memories of freedom that can still be reached -- like The Doors, right?

But we can only open the doors -- we can't drag people through. I can't free them unless they want to be free -- more than anything else ...

 Maybe primitive people have less bullshit to let go of, to give up.

A person has to be willing to give up everything -- not just wealth. All the bullshit he's been taught -- all society brainwashing.

You have to let go of all that to get to the other side. Most people aren't willing to do that.

As long as there are people, they can remember words and combonations of words. Nothing else can survive a holocaust but poetry and songs.

No one can remember an entire novel.

No one can describe a film, a piece of sculpture, a painting,

but so long as there are human beings, songs and poetry can continue.

Let's see. I guess it's just a natural aging process. You know? Maybe it's not being as physically active but I think it's mainly  it's just filling out. some people have that kind of build ... I would say if you perform alot and sweated alot and moved around you would probably keep trim. and i drink alot of beer. if you drink hard liquor when you're recording, pretty soon you're so out of it, you can't do anything, but beer gives you a little energy and you can keep going all night.. beer really puts on the pounds.

quotes from:

Hullabaloo Magazine - October and November, 1968

The Lost Writings of Jim Morrison- Wilderness Volume 1

Interview in 1971 (his last interview) with Ben Fong Torres

Lizzie James interviews Jim